gabriela mistral

what the fuck, america?

I just came back from CVS pharmacy. They informed me that the medication (one of) that I take to be somewhat sane has a copay of motherfucking 45 dollars! A month. For 30 pills. I realize that Uruguay's drug prices are on the ridiculous side of cheap (3 dollars a prescription), but this is insane! It's an antidepressant! It probably costs 5 cents to make! I hate hate hate my insurance! They should die, literally, I would not be sad at all if whoever made that ridiculous decision died right now, horribly.

give it!

What the fuck, America? Birther bill? Seriously? We are going into another war right now, and you keep pestering us with that bullshit?

What the fuck, America? Cutting NPR of all its funding? Trying to shut down Planned Parenthood? We are going to have a lot more STDs running around if that happens. And orphanages will be overcrowded. More.

What the fuck, America? Trying to define rape rape? Because there is rape that is fake?


DOMA? God hates fags? Are we still homophobic? Why why why is this happening? Are we in the 50s?

What the fuck, America? 16 and pregnant? Celebrity Rehab? Sister wives? Jersey Shore? Linsday Lohan? CHARLIE SHEEN? Westboro Baptist Church?

tiger blood isn't funny, neither is the charlie sheen bullshit

well, maybe this is ok

America, you have been really good to me, and I love you. I really do.

lovers

People like these two are allowed to exist. New York is in America. The best fashion in the world exists here and you can be as flaming as a homo can be. College is here, the best education one could wish for... Burgers and coffee mugs and fast internet and every beer ever and bikers and music everywhere and a sushi place next door to an argentinean bistro and rap music and poets and television.


But, please, for your sake, just stop.

What comes after Sunday?

Dudes! I am so sorry I didn't write for a while. I mean, no one else is sorry, but I am. Writing (on blogs) helps me with my shit. But, so it happens I haven't had much “shit” lately, which just reinforces my theory that only pain produces any sort of worthwhile writing. 

That, or drugs.

But I just had spring break, and it was awesome. I went to the city and spent too much money on alcohol but it was fucking worth it. I promised myself that one day I will live in New York, at least for a couple of years.

From a cab cross the Brooklyn bridge.

On the days I was lazy I watched the new season of skins. It is pretty good, although the kids seem much much younger now. The Frankie chick is hot and really queer, so that's nice. But nothing will compare to the last generation... so much hot teenage sex... grr.

LOL

Anyway, I had a lot of good conversations while on break. My and my friend Margaret discussed how ridiculous old professors are, and how they think that the internet is evil and how it's fucking up our “communication”. Fuck off, old bat, I can speak to my mother every day who is in Uruguay. They also think that their bullshit revolution is still relevant. No, sir, our revolution is being made on blogs, stencil art, and dance floors, on a personal level, because your grand cultural social revolution created more questions than it answered and so now we are stuck with your emotional baggage and bills. I know you wear an earring and think you're 'with it' but you really ain't.

And then Margaret and I shared some heavy shit and it made me feel great that I have so many wonderful friends in so many places, but also sad that I can't see them all everyday. I stayed with many friends, some new and some old. The last couple of days have been fabulous and hilarious and full of Rebecca Black jokes.

I also ran into * literally ran into * one of the first friends I made in America and have always been in love with. She is squatting in Brooklyn. It made me happy to see her and to see that people can still live off the grid in a city like New York. However, a lot of things about her life made me not so happy. But we had dinner and we laughed and her dog was super cute and she met some of my friends. She said she is very glad I have many wonderful people in my life. I told her she should get some herself.

Friends like these two.

My friends each have a little piece of me and I am never ever going to be complete until we all move into a big house by the beach. Deal? Deal.

Vamo' questarde

Then, after watching the muppets show when I was hanging out with the cutest fucking little boy in all of history, I had awesome dreams about Lil Jon being a host in the muppets show. And also how Mos Def invited and drove me to a party. I am really popular in my dreams.

Marry me, Mos

Anyway, I found THIS today. I wrote it a while ago, and I was asleep. Every once in a while I literally write while I am completely asleep. There's also a bit about a kid named Jake driving up to a camp in Vermont. I'll try to make that into a story.

Here it is:

Suddenly, this stupid laser-like beam thing comes full throttle into your eyeball and messes with your concentration, even if your eyelids are closed, this defiant attitude, you know, I can't see you, i'm probably asleep. Kindly fuck off. Blinding light after a nice continuity of heavy summer foliage shielding your eyes, keeping your soul all brooding and in the perfect mood for soulful trip-hop music. Suddenly, the sunshine reminds you, aw fuck, must be happy. Your body reacts with violent burst of energy, the summer is here, and you must go outside. Vitamin D is calling.

What am I doing?

weheartit

Anyway, today is terrible and grey and FUCKING SNOWING AGAIN. It's the first day of spring, man! Come onnnnn argrghghsghagfpnrkuga. I have much much work to do, but I am feeling pretty happy and nice and warm so whatever! Have a good day!

<3

popoverload

In the past 48 hours I have listened to Chromeo ft. Elly Jackson - Hot Mess (right click for download) like 20 times. And if you know how many hours of those 48 I have been in class/work/sleeping, the number is pretty impressive.

Like all La Roux songs, or any song that La Roux is featured at any point, this song is freaking amazing! Be sure to check out all of the remixes on hypem.com. There is also a new song by Kanye called My Bitch.  A wonderfully feminist title, that one. Thanks Kanye for making it so easy to love you.

I'm never going to get over this, am I?

Friday we had  a party, themed "Cowboys vs. Aliens". It was a success in the sense that I truly looked like an actual alien, which is a bit disheartening. Too convincing. After the party I almost died from back pain, I need a doctor #LORDOFTHEDANCE. When I was 12, I almost broke my back, and was in pain for years after that. It's starting to come back. At the time, my doctor said my injury was incurable and I just had to deal with the pain. THIS IS HOW PEOPLE GET ADDICTED TO THINGS.

In television news: me and jwife finished watching Buffy, the whole thing. I mean, I had seen it before duh but she hadn't. I cried at the season finale. Again. I need to get a life. Possibly two.

Also, I watched thd first five episodes of the new generation of Skins (the real one, not the US one), and it FUCKING SUCKS. The characters are lame and there is like no gay sex. After Naomi/Emily, they can't just leave us high and dry without any teenage lesbian love. OMG I am going to jail. At least the main character is a girl and she dresses awesome. Mini LaRoux.

"What?! I don't have a type, what you say??"

In film news: The Oscars happened and it was boring and all the predicted movies/actors got all the awards and they DIDN'T MENTION Corey Haim in the dead person section. Other than that, I am currently avoiding to write a paper about auteur theory in film.

Anyway, I wrote this the other day:

--

Night before last

Your smell is old blood and hair

The rest of you sticky, sewn to my black sheets

You are the queen of limbs

Green under this light

You are the small child

An inconvenient body

The cracks of your lips

Dyed black by the Shiraz

Stretch in polite gesture

When what you really want to do is write poems about yourself.

 --

You guys, WHERE did Clea Duvall go?

My teacher said it "takes no prisoners".  Annnyway, I am thinking of writing a story about my family, but that will be in Spanish. My family has this weird tendency to create its own sayings and idioms, and most of them are hilarious. Actually, more than a story, I would like to document first. The stories (fake or real) that my great-aunts tell, the anecdotes of other kids in their childhood neighborhood, the way so-and-so couldn't pronounce a certain word. It will give me something to do when I go home.

Every day is closer to graduation and I feel specially tiny.

But also, the recent news about outlawing unions and state senates passing anti-abortion laws make me a lot happy about going back to Uruguay. Specially because they are about to pass a law that would allow people to grow personal amounts of weed. Can you see my mother riding a scooter around with a personal pot delivery service?


Yeah, neither can I.




<3

foucault + heath ledger

Things that were said in the past couple of days:

"Hey, are you okay? I heard that you punched yourself several times in the face last night."

"Your ass is distracting me from my drinking."

"If we move in together, we just must buy those fake sumo wrestling suits."

"She looks like a neo-nazi with poor fashion sense."

"I am never drinking again."

The last one is the funniest. 

This is a pretty accurate description of what I looked like on Friday.

OK, so, I have been writing a bit more, mostly stuff not suitable for the internet. (Well, yes, suitable, but not necessarily good for anyone’s mental health). For the past FOREVER I have been reading about auteur-structuralism and it’s all sorts of confusing/wrong/fascinating. I want to shoot Foucault in the face… who needs such big words? ME. THINKS. NAMES. ARE. WRONG. See? Easy! 

I mean, really, Foucault? This is your face?

But the business about the writing, I need an editor! Someone who’s like Ezra Pound par rapport to TS Eliot (an anagram of Toilets LOL). Slash my shit in half and tell me I’m worthless. I deserve that, at least!

This week has been a real change for me: I started drinking coffee and stopped drinking alcohol (with the notable exception of Friday night, of which events shall never be spoken of again). I have been, as we say in Uruguay, con un cuete metido en el culo. My therapist says that caffeine is probably not good and might exacerbate my mood swings but OMG WHAT DOES HE KNOW. I even bought a coffee mug. A whole new exciting world. 

Annnyway, like Foucault is obviously right about, I have nothing new or original to say, so I am going to go to bed. And dream. I have been having the best fucking dreams lately. Last night only, I dreamed that:

1. I was Mina Harker from Dracula and I made out with Dracula who happened to be Heath Ledger. 

I literally ask "god" why oh why several times a day.

2. I was filming an acoustic set of Radiohead which included back-up vocals of myself (multitasking), Elly Jackson from La Roux (we obviously made out in this dream too), and Heather Morris from Glee. Thom was like my best friend. 

3. I talked to my sister on the phone and she said that when I turn 28 I must begin an annual check-up for some obscure disease that my father apparently had. The cost of these tests would be of 5000 pesos. She asked me what I was doing with my life (“It’s been sooooo long”, she said distractedly). I, in a small voice, said that I was finishing my BA. She didn’t seem to care that much and the call dropped (BTW, fuck AT&T).

That was the saddest dream because it’s the one that could be closest to the truth.

Also you guys, did you LISTEN to Radiohead’s new album? I need to listen to it a couple of hundred more times to really have an opinion (“they have like, sooo many layers”), but my fave fave song so far is Morning Mr Magpie. And also, Give up the Ghost.

Ok, now, really bed.

They tell me stories,

beaches glimmering with

old bathroom tiles,

a Portuguese ship once forgot.

Your grandmother's death,

The bathroom tiles.

Your grandmother's death,

the bathroom tiles’ forgotten little specks.

Rapid limbs with no owner,

another night in front of the mirror.

The boy, a man, made you take your clothes off

because he took you for a ride on his bike,

his expensive bike

laughing in the faces of the cops

who probably live in the banlieus anyway.

You will wash your face.

You will brush your teeth.

Better now?

Do you know how to get home?

Will you walk into the Atlantic,

to try to find more broken tiles?

 

Your vomit in spiraling swirls  

in a perfect mix of pristine safe water

and your grandmother’s ashes.

<3

that poem stuck in my head

I have had this song stuck on my head all day. And now it's your turn!


It was 12 degrees Celsius today. I was walking around in a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. I know for my Uruguayan counterparts, this may seem a bit extreme, but believe me, it's like fucking summer up in this bitch. Going from -12 to 12 is a big deal.

via jono winnel

Today I had a poetry class, and, while I find the class kind of boring and my professor a rambling old man, I really enjoy translating poetry. Today, we translated a poem, Maçã, by Manuel Bandeira. It goes like this:

Maçã 

Por um lado te vejo como um seio murcho
por outro como um ventre de cujo umbigo pende ainda o cordão placentário

És vermelha como o amor divino

Dentro de ti em peqenas pevides
Palpita a vida prodigiosa
Infinitamente

E quedas tão simples
Ao lado de um talher
Num quarto pobre de hotel.

via coquelicot, asleep in the poppies

 And my translation is such:

Apple
Sometimes I see you like a wilted breast,
Others like a womb whose navel hangs from the umbilical chord


She’s crimson like love divine

Inside of you in small seeds
Palpitates a prodigious life
Infinitely

And you stand so simple
Next to utensils
In a vile and unkind hotel room.

I obviously changed some words, and some grammatical structures are not the same. For me, I immediately thought this poem was about abortion, which my professor was quick to point out that I was damn wrong. WTV, I still think it. It's kind of obvious, no?

"Murcho", I got wrong. I thought it meant 'singed', but it means rotten. For "pobre" I had to choose another word other than "poor" because that sounds idiotic. "Cheap" could be okay, but that word only captures the dingy, not the evil. Right? Right.

I also don't think prodigious is a pompous word.

Grr, homework.

king of limbs

Pre-order the new Radiohead album, King of Limbs, here.

It will be available for download this Friday Saturday.

Expect collapse of servers.

Expect happy hipsters, looking as tortured as ever.

Expect me to not go out of my room. Housemates will be angry. I shall not care.